


Comfort in company

by BlushLouise



Series: Small packages [7]
Category: Transformers - All Media Types, Transformers Generation One
Genre: Cuddle Pile, Fluff, Foursome, Multi, War Injuries, battle damage, post-battle cuddles
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-04
Updated: 2018-11-04
Packaged: 2019-08-17 15:22:40
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,803
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16519046
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BlushLouise/pseuds/BlushLouise
Summary: When Optimus Prime is all but flattened in battle, there's nowhere Bumblebee would rather be than by his side. Ratchet and Jazz agree wholeheartedly.Written for Polyshipping Day on Tumblr.





	Comfort in company

:: _Bee, what’s your ETA? Boss Bot needs ya_.::

:: _Don’t worry, Jazz, I’ll be right there_.::

Bumblebee sped up as he rounded the corner into the hallway that housed the command staff’s quarters. He dodged Prowl, noticing the slight frown and twitch of doorwings that told of the SIC’s displeasure that Bumblebee was running in the halls coupled with the acknowledgment that he had good reason to be speeding and would not be given a punishment for it this time. Then he slid to a stop outside the Prime’s door and pinged for entrance.

“That was fast, mech,” Jazz commented as he opened the door and pulled him inside. “Good.”

“I may have skirted a few rules,” Bumblebee admitted. “Worth it, though.”

Jazz laughed. “Don’t let Prowler hear ya say that.” He raised a hand to cradle Bumblebee’s jaw, and leaned down to kiss him. “Hey, baby. Good t’ see ya.”

Bumblebee kissed back for a moment, then leaned his forehead against Jazz’s. “Likewise. You were okay today?” His hands rested against Jazz’s plating, reassuring himself of the heat and vibration of his lover’s fully functional frame.

“Not a scratch on me,” Jazz confirmed. “First Aid cleared me fully fit for duty easily enough. The ‘Cons weren’t even tryin’ – I think Prime kept Megs so busy that the rest of them forgot what they were s’posed t’ be doin’.”

Bumblebee giggled. “I think you’re right. The Stunticons weren’t up to their own usual lax standards either.” His humor faded, turned into a frown. “How is he?”

“See for yourself.”

Bumblebee followed Jazz into the berth chamber. Optimus was laid out on the giant berth, fresh welds still covered in mesh bandages, twin drips of energon and coolant spliced into his lines. He looked like he’d been through the wringer. Or the wrong end of the combined might of Bruticus, Devastator and Megatron’s fusion cannon, which wasn’t too far from the truth.

“Oh, Optimus,” Bumblebee sighed. “How are you feeling?”

The Prime’s optics brightened. “Bee. You came.” He lifted his right hand, reaching. “Come here?”

“Like anything could keep me away.” He climbed up on the berth and gingerly settled against Optimus’ side, where it didn’t look like he would be making anything worse. “Wow, they did a number on you, didn’t they?”

“I feel like slag,” Optimus confessed. His hand dropped to rest on Bumblebee’s hip. “Feel better now that you’re here, though.”

“Good.” Bee grinned. “I’ll be here as long as you need me to.”

“Always need you,” Optimus murmured, shifting and straining to lift his head towards Bumblebee’s. After a moment, Bumblebee took pity on him, leaning down to meet those lips with his own.

Kissing Optimus was always exhilarating. He was just so much _more_ – so much bigger, so much stronger, arms long enough to completely engulf Bumblebee – when they weren’t held back by IVs and injuries, anyway – and that strong, powerful spark thrumming in that chassis. It was all enough to make Bumblebee feel sheltered and comforted.

And go completely weak in the knees. Though that was less than helpful in these particular circumstances.

“And I’m glad you’re here,” Optimus continued when the kiss ended. He reached for Jazz with his other hand, and the saboteur took it willingly. “Both of you. I… don’t want to be alone right now.” He smirked, dispelling the sudden melancholy mood. “Also, the only reason Ratchet released me from medbay was that you were staying with me tonight.”

“The only reason Ratchet released you from medbay,” the medic himself said dryly from behind Bumblebee, “was that he’s staying with you himself. You really think I would entrust you to these reckless idiots when you’re this injured?”

Bumblebee twisted slightly to see Ratchet exiting the private wash racks. He was carrying an armful of clean polishing cloths.

“You’re lucky you have the setups here for me to be able to keep an eye on you,” the medic went on, dropping the cloths at the base of the berth and gesticulating towards the IV stands and a set of monitors that Bumblebee hadn’t noticed. “As it is, you’re as safe here as you would be there, and much calmer. That’s the only reason you were allowed to leave medbay.” He thrust a handful of cloths and a tube of nanite-gel at Bumblebee. “Here, kid. Make yourself useful while you’re up there.”

“Okay, Ratchet,” Bumblebee chirped, favoring his grouchiest lover with a smile. Ratchet frowned at him for a moment, probably checking his face for any sign of sass, then smiled back.

Jazz took another stack of cloths and went to work on Optimus’ legs. They were the most intact part of him, and Jazz rubbed the cloth over the plating in smooth, strong strokes. The appreciative groan escaping Optimus’ vocalizer was a good indicator of Jazz’s significant skill. Bumblebee could vividly remember getting the same treatment the last time he’d come back injured - it was enough to make his back strut tingle with remembered bliss.

To distract himself from the sight of Jazz’s hands, he squeezed some gel onto a cloth and went to work on Optimus’ battered abdomen. It was riddled with cracks and micro-welds, proof of the fine-detail work Ratchet had had to do after the battle-grade plating had withstood one too many blows from Devastator’s fist. Bumblebee was as careful and gentle as he could, smoothing and rubbing the gel onto the welds and fractures.

“That feels heavenly,” Optimus murmured, his optics dimming. “Don’t know what I’ve done to deserve all of you.”

“Hush, you,” Ratchet said affectionately. He’d moved up to the head of the berth with his own cloths. “And hold still. I pretty much had to piece your helm together like a jigsaw puzzle, so this might sting a bit even with the amount of painkillers you’re on.” Slowly, ever so carefully, he began massaging the gel onto the blue metal, dodging the open medical ports where the monitors were connected and the wide-open cut in Optimus’ helm, only covered with mesh bandage, where his processor had to heal from the inside out and the wound had been left open to drain.

Bumblebee looked back down at the abdominal plating in front of him, glad there were no bad injuries he could exacerbate there and feeling slightly sick to his tanks. On impulse, he leaned down and nuzzled across Optimus’ chest, drawing in the familiar scent and suppressing a shiver.

They’d come so close to losing him tonight.

Something in his posture must have given his feelings away, because a warm hand suddenly caressed the back of his helm.

“He’s alright, kid,” Ratchet said softly. “I’ve fixed him up. He’ll be good as new in a few days.”

“Oh, I know,” Bumblebee agreed, internally cursing his vocalizer for choosing that moment to go all staticky. “I was just – I saw that attack. I’ve never been more afraid in my life.”

Ratchet’s hand moved around to cradle his chin and tilt his head up. He looked into those kind, blue optics.

The medic’s official bedside manner was, admittedly, ghastly. But it was right there in his optics how much he _cared_.

And now he just looked at Bumblebee for a moment, then bent down to rest their foreheads together. “I know exactly what you mean.”

“Stay with us tonight, Bee,” Jazz offered from behind him. His hand stroked down Bumblebee’s back. “I know ya’ve been holdin’ back since this is still new t’ ya, but I don’t want ya t’ be alone tonight.”

Bumblebee didn’t want that either. “Alright,” he agreed readily. “Can’t say I wanted to leave, anyway.”

Optimus made a rumbling noise deep in his chest, and Bumblebee rested his head against it, letting the vibrations soothe him again. The gel-covered cloth lay abandoned next to him. “My Bee. Caring, wonderful Bumblebee. Love you. And you, Ratchet. Love you too. So much.”

“And me, boss bot?” Jazz grinned and shifted to lay across Optimus’ mostly undamaged left leg. “Don’t you love me?”

“Love you, Jazz,” Optimus murmured. He sounded half in recharge. “Most.”

“Doesn’t count when he’s this loopy, Jazz,” Ratchet said with a smirk. “Pain killers are finally kicking in properly.”

“He’ll say it again when he’s awake,” Jazz replied, chuckling. His expression shifted to this incredibly caring look Bumblebee ever only saw when it was just the four of them. “Love you too, big guy. More than you know.” He winked up at Ratchet. “Love you too, you know. And Bee.” He grinned. “Love Bee the most.”

“Today, maybe.” Bumblebee grinned. “Tomorrow, it’ll be Optimus. And then it’ll be Ratchet again.” Like it was with all of them. They might proclaim who they loved most on any given day, but Bumblebee knew it was all based on the circumstances of the day. Tonight, he loved Optimus the most, but tomorrow it would be Ratchet, for pulling him close and holding him through the night. Yesterday it had been Jazz, for doing the same thing. At the core of things, there were no favorites. That’s what made it work so well. “And for the record, I love you two too.” He kissed Optimus’ chest. “And him.”

“And I, Primus save me, love the three of you as well,” Ratchet said with a soft chuckle. “I don’t know how we got ourselves into this mess, but I wouldn’t change it for the world.”

Jazz sat up, stretching past Bumblebee to look at Optimus’ face. “Aw, look at him. Out like a light.” He canted his head, looked up at Ratchet. “Okay for all of us to stay in this berth tonight?”

Ratchet pursed his lips. “Should be fine. Just be mindful of the wires and the open wound on his head.”

Bumblebee nodded, curling up more closely against Optimus’ side. “I’m gonna stay right here.”

“Knew you would.” Ratchet chuckled as he gathered up the cloths. Then he walked around the berth and settled in against Bumblebee’s back, nuzzling his neck. “He really scared you today, didn’t he?”

“Terrified me,” Bumblebee admitted as Jazz settled on Optimus’ other side. “I don’t ever want to see anything like that again.”

“Well, we gave as good as we got,” Jazz said, reaching out to take Bumblebee’s hand. His leg slid across Optimus’ thigh to tangle with Ratchet’s. “They ain’t goin’ t’ be comin’ at us for a while.”

“Recharge, precious Bee,” Ratchet whispered. “We’re watching over him.”

Bumblebee obediently dimmed his optics, taking comfort in being surrounded by his lovers. He could feel the solid strength of Ratchet’s frame behind him, Optimus’ powerful spark beneath his helm, Jazz’s sheer vibrant _life_ in front of him.

Somehow, he fitted in there, between the three of them. With that soothing thought, he finally let himself relax all the way until recharge claimed him.


End file.
